


gave you another name (switch up the batteries)

by parkadescandal



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Banter, Established Relationship, F/F, Light Angst, PWP, Post-Canon, Schmoop, altverse where not much is different except for minor elements of character arc, but instead of just throwing around logs and shit riku also cried herself to sleep listening to tatu, cis-swap, demonstrating humor via flowery and hifalutin language for dramatics, same gay angst slightly different flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkadescandal/pseuds/parkadescandal
Summary: As much as she appreciates Aqua in most contexts, this—in bed with Sora between her legs—is not a position in which she's eager to be found, especially not as a send-off from what may be her last night ever in Castle Departure. She was admittedly weak for the chance to christen it goodbye with more positive memories. She has her pride and accomplishment, sure, but she isn't exactly nostalgic for the nights spent wide awake in gasping grief. And while—as predicted—Sora's light brings a new life to the place, she's content enough with a successful overwrite that she doesn't need the audio as well.soriku but it's lesbians
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32





	gave you another name (switch up the batteries)

**Author's Note:**

> me doing cis-swap soriku at some point was inevitable but this dropped into my head fully formed the other day and my brain did the mental equivalent of yanking up the tablecloth to dump everything else on the docket directly to the floor and in order to exorcise this spirit i must fulfill its last item of unfinished business on this earth which can only be rectified upon hitting post so that i may liberate it unto the plane of the afterlife to haunt me no more — this, my keyblade of damocles...my burden of words. anyway lesbians amirite kids 😘
> 
> working title: 'but i'm a keyblade wielder.' i've broached absolutely no new territory here just brought it to my own playing field.

" _Shh_ ," Riku hisses, a note of panic in her voice as she stills the hand busy gathering dripping warmth from the culprit of the noise. "I'm already late. They'll be looking."

As much as she appreciates Aqua in most contexts, this—in bed with Sora between her legs—is not a position in which she's eager to be found, especially not as a send-off from what may be her last night ever in Castle Departure, where she has only returned to collect her things. It wasn't a difficult endeavor, modest and tidy as she kept the room she stayed in during the year of her stewardship, but she was admittedly weak for the chance to christen it goodbye with more positive memories. She has her pride and accomplishment, sure, but she isn't exactly nostalgic for the nights spent wide awake in gasping grief. And while—as predicted—Sora's light brings a new life to the place, she's content enough with a successful overwrite that she doesn't need the audio as well. Riku _hushes_ her next whimper.

She expects to watch her stick her tongue out at her, crying " _goody two-shoes_ " with disdain as usual, but instead she looks up to find the spark of desperation that's become unfortunately familiar in the short time since they've been reunited. Riku evens up, face softening, but Sora recovers quickly enough in favor of indignant bluster.

"Wait, did you just _shh_ me? Don't _shh_ me." Overcome by a surge of affection, Riku leans forward to kiss her instead.

Weeks passed where Riku did everything in her power not to crowd her, already in a constant struggle to tamp down her own heady emotion for fear it'd smother them both. She knows how manic it already sounds on loop in her head: _I found you. I finally found you_. It wasn't fair to dump it on her: the pent-up pain, the watershed relief, the separation anxiety—not when Sora hadn't yet found herself since returning. She remained visibly frustrated at the thin tightrope she now walked—precariously balancing her usual cheer and optimism with the gut-wrenching anger and grief that now reared so often beyond her control. The mesh of it all left her defeated and confused, and as much as Riku tried to avoid her Sora still turned up in her atmosphere with regularity, seeking with silent supplication a comfort Riku was all too eager to give.

 _How did you find me_ , she'd asked, leaving Riku sick with the desire to kiss away the pallor that stole the last of the faint freckles that once dotted her nose, and, on particularly bad days, most of the light from her eyes. _How did you do it?_

Knowing there was little else she could do to pass off this devotion as anything other than what it was, Riku was left with nothing but the truth. She played surrender; shook her head, shut her eyes, spoke softly: _I had to. I came for you because I had to_. With helpless horror Riku removed herself from the nails that gripped her arms and turned to take her leave, but didn't make it to the door before Sora shouted behind her. _Wait, wait,_ she said, near hysteria as she ran to clutch her arm. _Tell me what it means. You have to tell me. Because sometimes, even when none of it feels real, I wake up and you're the only thing that makes sense._

Riku showed her then, delicately as possible, taking her hands from Sora's to put her face between them instead, reaching down in attempt to offer, not to take—sure either way that finally kissing her would swiftly stop things from being sensible. But she stayed when Riku let her go, looking up at her unnaturally long. She blinked the tears from her eyes, and when Riku turned to leave she snatched her by the arm, entreating. _No, show me. Show me_ , she said, and pushed herself up by her toes. _Please_ , Sora's voice cracked against her lips, and Riku acquiesced, whispering one soft _yes_ against a dozen silent ones.

Since then Sora had dared her to demonstrate at any given opportunity, stealing moments for Riku to press her lips on her just for the promise of hearing her laugh with delight—memorably, the time they left Master Yen Sid's study together and Sora immediately crowded her against the wall and demanded to be touched, directing Riku to rub her over her clothes until she came through her tights.

But some nights she turned up at Riku's door with this same haunted expression, clambering into the blanket of her arms and begging for closeness, each time as disconcerting as the first. _I'm so cold,_ she'd repeat, holding on for dear life, attempting to connect on every physical level. Riku indulged as much as possible, holding her close while trying to surpress her own feeling of alarm. _Did they hurt you_? she'd asked the first time, roiled in fear and retribution _. Did they touch you, are you—_

 _No. No. I don't think—_ she stumbled through it all, shaking her head. _I don't…know, I don't—I'm just so cold. I'm so cold._ And when Sora wouldn't settle, Riku reassured her, searching for signs of life. She proved the strength of Sora's breath when she stole her sighs, tested the meter of her heartbeat from behind her breast, lent her tongue so she could recall her voice, and the power she had to scream and gasp and sob of her own accord, frenzied by the need to vocalize it all. _Did they touch you_ , Riku said again to the shake of her head. _But they hurt you_ , she said, seeing her stare the other way, still but for breathing—showing scars from her heartbreak: the kind that corroded from the inside out, not the one that bore shadow monsters and empty shells.

Riku thinks with nausea on the man who wore her face—the one who tried to take what wasn't his—and swears her revenge. The enigma: the very same from the game Sora found on her journey to find the power of waking: _This is going to sound strange_ , she'd sent alongside a picture, _but he reminds me of you. At least, Goofy kinda said so. Well, what he actually said was, "Say, doesn't this feller look a little bit like Riku?"_

It'd be more amusing if she didn't already know so much about copycats. The replica aside, Riku knew entirely too much about ghosts, and how they soured the sacred; she still jumped every time Terra caught her unawares. Thankfully his long-harbored affection and his own similar demons made him kind enough to acknowledge her space, remembering how similar his face looked to the one she robbed to subdue the nobody boy with Sora's eyes, as he in turn fought for the one who wore Sora's face—or, at least she had for a time, although her eyes always gleamed more like Kairi's. Horrid as it was, it was a small price to pay to take the form she so dreaded, the one she'd outrun in the ruins of Hollow Bastion and shook off at the maze of Castle Oblivion. Worth it even in spite of her vow after that to avoid even the barest reminder: the very reason she'd immediately taken a knife to her hair, cropped short enough to cover neither her eyes nor the stubborn drops of crystal that hung from her lashes, vulnerable and honest. She'd used a strip of black cloth to dry those, and tied it there so they wouldn't return.

Until the dark margin, where she'd unburdened her heart and been content to stay, transparent like the belated tears she let drop on the sand. Without a word, Sora put a chin on her shoulder and quietly acknowledged, then forgave, her fingertips brushing Riku's in imitation of the way they'd forged themselves a constant link as children, attached by the hands. As they looked into nothing she made a quiet noise of affirmation and reached up to skim her fingers in Riku's hair for a moment. _It's kinda nice_ , she'd said, worrying an uneven strand, _but it makes me think about how long you used to wear it when we were little. I don't think I ever told you then how much I liked it._

She certainly seems to appreciate her hair now, always a little smug to see she'd taken it to heart—under the pretense of shoving her hands in it, Sora snaps the tie Riku uses to hold up the length of it in retaliation, at which she yelps in surprise.

"Don't _ignore_ me, either," Sora says, with a masterful pout and a fist to her hip that would barely bely that she's currently seated atop Riku's fingers. She shifts to reach up and grab Riku's shoulder with the smallest hitch in her breath. "Anyway, they're not going to miss you, unless they think you're going anywhere without me: I told Ven I'd meet him this afternoon."

"Oh, well in _that_ case," Riku responds with sarcasm, this time aiming her affection at Sora's neck.

Good a save as any, though—Ventus will provide them with ample excuse. He's surely excited enough to make note of the occasion, charmingly protective of the sister he'd never had. Or, one more like the one he'd always _wanted_ , at any rate—his other half had done her fair share of damage already, giving Ventus plenty of overwriting to do of his own.

"So you can get on with it—" Sora interrupts herself with a low gasp at the thumb skimming across her clit.

"All you had to do was say so," Riku says smugly, still circling her thumb on her with even pressure while putting her mouth to her breast, where she cheekily matches the rhythm with a tongue around her nipple. Riku presses up her palm up against her warmth and feels another small trickle over her fingertips. Sora lets out half an _m_ sound and moves her hips around by a degree in response, but ends up promptly swatting Riku upside the head when she nips at her with teeth.

"I _have_ two, you know," she says matter-of-factly, rolling her shoulders and arching her back just a fraction as if to show off prime real estate.

"So you can count," Riku drawls, but obediently moves to the other side; evidently she's done nothing to deter her, as Sora's still sopping wet. It bodes well—though the day they learned to both their surprise that not everyone expresses themselves quite as _messily_ as Sora does proved a mortifying blip in her history, it was the day Riku learned that an integral part of her very core had been missing from her until that exact moment, and she judiciously revised her life's mission statement to reflect the unimpeded pursuit of said mess at any and every given opportunity. It is her greatest pleasure to satisfy that role once more: quick and slick; this time she pushes two fingers up inside her, gratified how easy she's made it—Sora lets out the quietest _huh_ in sharp response, then moves her hips again with a moan. She reaches with the hand that isn't still gripping Riku's shoulder to guide her, setting pace sufficiently quick and rough until she's satisfied, then moves to fill the vacancy at her clit herself. Riku cups her free hand around Sora's breast to tease the nipple she'd abandoned, still diligently sucking kisses from the other until she tips her over: Sora pauses, arches up, and moans quietly as another waterfall runs through her.

"Keep going," she says through clenched teeth, throwing both arms around Riku's shoulders with a noise of exertion. Riku doesn't have to be told—she curves to press the tips of her fingers to her wall, and Sora moves her head back, choking out another half sound as the next one rolls through more forcefully. Riku allows her full concentration to the task of bringing about the following; she braces herself with a hand to Sora's thigh and presses her forehead to the center of her chest. Sora whimpers and tightens her arms around Riku's shoulders, her legs seizing, then comes the longest thus far, aided by two more short thrusts inside. She cries out softly as Riku circles her clit again throughout, shocked into tiny little jerks in time with each one. At the last of it she sits hard on her heels, chest heaving.

Riku reaches out to skim a touch down her arm, but Sora redoubles immediately, climbing on her knees and throwing a leg over to sit on her thigh. "Again," Sora says to her mouth, kissing around her smile. She wedges her leg between Riku's and begins a determined rub, sliding herself on her thigh while rubbing her own on her in return. Friction does enough for the both of them for the moment—Riku feels the bright burn of pleasure accompany the motion, slicker by the second against Sora's bare leg. She's plenty wet too, if the warmth on Riku's leg is any indication.

Sora reaches to touch her, pinching and tugging at her breasts with no rhyme or reason, and continues to hump her leg. Riku reaches for her waist, marveling how little it would take for her to touch her own fingers together around it, then slides her hands to settle around the curve of her backside—which is where, in her humble opinion, they truly belong. Given the amount of time they both spend shoving their hands in each others' back pockets, the feeling may just be reciprocated. Riku is otherwise helpless to do much else save measure her own deepening breaths, now increasingly out of her control. Sora slows her grind and presses her thigh even closer against her, and Riku moves her hips to meet her, now pressed solidly against her muscle and closer by the second to a climax of her own.

"Hey," Riku says softly, reaching to caress her cheek and using her thumb to pull at her lip, pleased to feel her breath warm against her hand. "Hey. Look at me. Let me see you."

She does: smoldering with heat, dazed by desire, her eyes half-lidded and her mouth just open. Riku doesn't so much experience arousal as she does divinity, which in this case is mostly akin to the sensation that her brain now leaks past her skull to join the rest of her faculties, cheerfully melting out of this mortal coil. She involuntarily lets out a quiet gasping sob.

"Please," Sora says, grinding hard into her leg. "I need to feel you, please." Riku kisses her, immediately deep and breathy, but Sora shakes her head with little noises of distress—not enough. At that Riku takes her lip between her teeth and bites down hard, feeling her shake and gasp. She breaks away to look down at her from right over the brink of desperation. "I can't," she breathes, face screwed up with exertion, "I can't, I can't, I can't, please—"

"C'mon," Riku croons, letting a smirk turn up her mouth. "Yes, you can, honey. Don't tell me you're giving up already."

Sora clenches her legs together over her thigh, mouth wide like she's going to scream, and rocks in place—Riku slides hands to her waist once more to steady her and meets her eyes, which flutter shut for a moment; there's a groan started from deep within her, crescendo, then she lets out a high wailing keen and crosses her eyes as she comes so hard that Riku's legs shake in solidarity. Still flowing sweet and hot down their tangle of legs, she throws her hand to Riku's shoulder to ride it out, crying out with an _ohh_ sound repeated with awe-inspiring resolve through it all. Immobilized, Riku looks on at the rhapsody in her expression and struggles not to pass out.

Eternally the begrudging romantic, Riku admits that all heroes worth their salt must have something they ultimately fight for, be it their life or their principle or a treasure or a paramour or the light, or, in her case, all of them wrapped up into one. As a natural consequence of heroism is danger, it's only appropriate that one should keep a token of such a thing in some way or the other as a reminder of the cause, so she'll also admit that she carried the spirit of her beloved inside her heart well before their consummation—before she had the opportunity to whisper truths baring and binding to the nexus of her strength in the middle of the night. Now that she's sealed the deal and claimed her heart she's allowed her token, and now reaps the rewards of chivalrous oath from her lover with honor and occasionally even with makeouts. As such Riku's got two or three choice smiles embedded in her brain for the sole purpose of lending herself some comfort in duress, but when her luck runs out and her time finally comes, she's now slotted into her catalogue the crown jewel—this face exactly—in the event she gets to call up one last image before she goes.

Sora finishes with one more gasp turned scream, physically rocked by the aftershock and breathing deep, letting out a high sigh with each exhale. Riku drops her leg and bundles her into an embrace, using her last of her capacity for coherent thought to send up a thanks to whichever force decided on Sora's particular sensitivity, but especially the sheer amount of wetness she provides to help show it. Riku offers a kiss which she accepts eagerly, freeing them to pull apart and push together in turns. Unable to put off her own peak any longer, Riku reaches down to touch herself, but is perfunctorily relieved of duty.

"I want yours," Sora says, climbing off her lap to brace herself on her knees. She lifts Riku's leg over her shoulder and sends two fingers inside her to test her slickness. "Let me give it to you."

Riku agrees into her mouth and against her fingers—Sora spreads her wetness to her clit, pressing her finger to sensitive folds and circling around it. Riku suppresses a low whine, then jerks at the press of button nerve with a plaintive noise of want; Sora changes tactics, sliding one finger inside, then two again, her palm slapping lightly against her as she speeds up her thrust. Riku gasps as she inserts another finger, then another, and she tightens around her hand. Sora holds herself up against her leg, pressing it back to a pleasant burn as if they were simply helping one another with stretches before training, then pushes up as far inside as her fingers will take her. (Which, to be fair, is not inconsiderably far: though Riku certainly never imagined testing the length of them in this very scenario, and _certainly_ not while staring at her fingers in other contexts—not gracefully wobbling pens between them as she chewed her upper lip, or wrapping them securely around the hilt of her blade; not even when they accidentally brushed against Riku's face while she laughed and plaited messy braids in her hair.) Riku grunts, shifting as she presses up again; Sora slides a thumb back to her clit and pushes it forward like a switch. Riku holds herself taut, letting out an ugly groaning noise, then comes—throwing her head back as she tries and fails to stop grunting out more _ugh_ sounds, the smallest stream of helpless drool from her mouth accompanying the discharge now leaking viscous over Sora's hand. Sora circles her thumb again, making Riku's legs truly shake with force this time, and she's reduced to a silent scream as she abruptly hits plateau, shocked into a hiccuping spasm and reaching for purchase as she arches her back.

As she comes down from it they breathe in time, lending each other the air from their mouths as they press their chests together and begin to touch as much of one another as they can get their hands on, slow and thorough. After a moment Sora's kisses grow sloppy and insistent again, and she begins to rub against her seat. "I.. I wa-" she starts, but falters.

"Lemme guess," Riku responds with irony. _Again?_ she mouths, and Sora nods enthusiastically, though quickly averting her eyes and biting her lip. "This is how I die," Riku observes casually, shifting to lie down. Loved to death, she thinks. Not a terrible way to go, considering she probably deserved much worse. At any rate it was certainly less painful than a cloud of heartless, or something equally stupid or sinister. At Sora's noise of confusion Riku coolly reaches to bundle her up by the back of her legs. She squeaks a giggle as she is gently maneuvered to straddle Riku's head, shrieks lightly when nudged by her bottom to brace her knees about her face, and gasps a noise of denial balking at the direction to take to a seat atop her. Sora tenses, looking away for a moment. She's not quite as ashamed as she lets on—she is thoroughly shameless—but she does press her lips together in a nervous smile, at the very least contrite.

"You don't have to," she says quietly.

"No, no, you've got me all wrong. I'm prepared to go out this way." Upon lack of response Riku changes tactics. "Let me start over. _Please_ say again."

A laugh bubbles from her, and she arches down and looks aside again. "I want you," Sora says lowly, smile starting to go sly again.

"Then don't say no," Riku replies in a voice just as low. She watches in fascination the way the messy mass of her loosed hair ends just past her neck to skim her shoulders; when she turns even further, it falls over her brow. It looks almost red in the light. Riku wants to reach up and pull it back for her just to see her face, but she's unfortunately not quite in a position to do so at present. Instead she grips Sora at the thighs, bracing the both of them to their respective posts, and presses a light kiss right outside her opening, watching her inhale and scrunch her shoulders up in chagrin, still looking pensively elsewhere. "Again?" Riku offers gently.

There's a lengthy silence. "Give it to me," Sora finally breathes, tentatively settling.

"Attagirl," Riku says with triumph, pulling a laugh of surprise from her.

"Nope, changed my mind. Gotta get go-" but the rest is left to a sharp inhale, another, and then a sigh. Riku kisses with reverence inside her, slowly exploring with her tongue, licking in and around to the reassurance of her sighs and the tightening of her thighs. She takes her time bringing her back to the brink, relishing in her enthusiasm—were all girls like this? Or is she just lucky? Riku expresses appreciation as best she knows how, the act of giving pleasure alone more than enough to heat her up again top to bottom to core, and she resolves with a thrill to set Sora off with only her mouth.

She clenches her legs together, already feeling the urge to climax return in full force. With one hand she keeps the impression from her fingertips on Sora's thigh, and the other she curls around to touch herself—via Sora's breast first, skirting past all her curves on the way down. There's a strong correlation between the feeling of orgastic intensity and the volume of Sora's cries, and Riku relishes in her squirming and wriggling into her movement—when she moans inside her it resounds through both of them, and Sora gasps, comically dainty, reflexively slapping an arm on the nearest surface: the headboard, which she then grips with both hands while arching back and bearing down. Riku adjusts accordingly to support her, now at an even greater vantage point to worry her clit—she can't quite remember the spot which just pushed a glorious moan out of Sora, but it's on the tip of her tongue.

Every so often Sora grows restless with overstimulation, but she's not getting away so fast. Feeling daring, Riku passes through her cool-down points, making her writhe for climax, but slow down to halt it while still not allowing any reprieve. Riku finds herself unconcerned about volume now, impossibly turned on by her occasional shout of rapture, and even more light-headed at the way Sora's voice turns delightfully testy as well—in short gasps brought about when Riku lightly scrapes her teeth here and there before returning to lips and tongue to lap her up, profoundly and deliciously wet—though Riku is well on her way to rival it. Knowing herself the cause of the cascade makes up most of the difference, and she steals a hand down to confirm her suspicion.

"Okay," Sora breathes, urgent. "Okay, okay, okay, I-" _Nuh-uh_. Riku dials it back to lick languidly for a moment before shoving her tongue inside her once again, though she picks up speed against herself. Sora shifts as if to move, but Riku holds her there, overtaken by a devilish urge with no intention of letting her give her orgasm to anything else but her mouth. "Okay. Okay, okay, I'm gonna. I'm…R- I _can't_ , I think I'm there, I, _I_ …" She exhales on a scream—Riku goes off right there, tensing her legs and groaning inside her. "Oh, oh, oh n- I'm. I'm. R- _You gotta_ \- R- _Ri-_ "

The babbling tapers off into a barely intelligible noise, Sora's voice now picking up in a shriek: the floodgates have opened, her thrashing immediately thwarted as Riku holds her between both hands to contain her, collecting Sora's climax— _gushing_ , screaming—and taking it all for herself, every last twitch. Riku moans, unrepentantly loud, and achieves climax again between her closed legs alone, pulled back by a spasm. She's laughing before her back hits the bed.

Sora scrambles off of her, the shriek of vague horror her reaction to getting one good look at Riku's face, painted over entirely by bliss and ecstasy and come. " _Ohmygosh,"_ she starts repeating, hiding her face behind her hands in complete mortification. She inhales, and begins anew, now muttering " _I'msosorry"_ in alternation.

Riku, recouped, sits up to survey her, lips pressed together in stifled amusement. When Sora's hands will not unclamp themselves from her face, she reaches out to lightly touch her arm. "Hey." At a second thought, Riku wipes a palm down from her brow to her chin to dry her face, suspecting it may serve a reminder of a sensitive subject otherwise. "Hey. It's okay, sweetheart, I promise. It's fine. Pinky promise, I'll never tell a soul," she says, tapering off into a snort and falling into giggles. Facetious but true, unless she counted her id, ego, and superego, now destined to nod at one another vigorously and toss this particular moment back and forth in an eternal game of hot potato long outlasting the remainder of her natural years. She'd hate for the memory to put a damper on the possibility of a repeat experience—or, perhaps, to describe it more pertinently, something far opposite of _damp_. She considers possibly calling in a favor from Naminé, but cringes and thinks better of it: it may serve a reminder of a sensitive subject. She's surprised Naminé let her keep that one, actually. With a gentle little shake to Sora's elbow, Riku leans in and softly prods for her attention. "Sora."

With exaggerated caution, Sora moves her hands one singular iota, then spreads her fingers apart to create a window only just large enough for one guilty eye to peer through. "What," she says, and it's incredible how she can _hear_ the pout in it.

"Don't be like that," Riku chastises affectionately. At least, she thinks it's affectionate: she's laughing _with_ her, not at her. Ostensibly. "You did nothing wrong."

"Promise?"

"Of course I promise, hon, what do you think I'm doing? Look at me."

Sora slides her hands down one notch more to peek. To her credit there's a high flush on her cheeks matching the red that gilds the tips of her ears. Golden. Determining it genuine, Sora removes her hands entirely.

"There you are." Riku leans in for the kiss.

"Ew, no!" Sora shrieks, shoving her at the collarbone; she reels back in shock. Sora crosses her arms. "I know where that mouth has been," she continues petulantly, startling a laugh out of her.

"Why is it you go all shy the second you get it out of your system?" Sora's hands fly to her face again. Riku shakes her head, but stifles a laugh. "I mean it. You give me all sorts of attitude then act like I've never touched you before, you little brat—"

" _All over your face_ ," she moans softly, muffled behind her hands. Her voice warbles with remorse. She looks so genuinely pitiable that Riku loops an arm around her to pull her close.

"There are probably restorative properties—" she starts matter-of-factly, at which Sora screeches and pushes her away—Riku laughs, grasping for her again and rocking her in her arms as she squeaks indignantly. "I promise, sweetheart, I promise, I promise."

Sora pulls off a masterful escape and turns to glare at her, but the act is over and done as soon as she sees her face—she softens enough to reach back when Riku extends her hands in conciliation, but she changes course immediately. Reservations apparently shed, Sora grabs her face in her hands to plant deep kisses on her mouth, swinging them back into rhythm once more.

"Don't tell me," Riku starts, but Sora squints her eyes shut and purses her lips around a smile, shaking her head aggressively. "Again?" Sora reaches up to push back a damp cluster of her hair and grimaces. " _Please_ let me do that again," Riku begs, already grinning—Sora shakes her head again, rendering her helpless with snorting laughter.

 _"Never_ again," she says vehemently.

"Why are you denying me another taste?" she pines, pressing her lips to keep in laughter. "Please. Let me drink from the fountain of youth," she says, getting cuffed in the ear for her troubles as she dissolves into snorting giggles, and then she's punished for those, too—pushed back on the bed to fend dramatically for her life as Sora descends on her with pantomimed threats of bodily harm, unrelenting until Riku throws up her hands in surrender. Sora looks down from where she straddles her to accept, breaking into a grin—Riku gives a lazy smile back, positively enamored, then topples her down to her level to drop another kiss on her in compromise.

"Okay. _Maybe_ ," Sora concedes. "But on one condition."

"Just one?"

"Kiss me again." Riku complies immediately. "Again."

"Where?" Riku asks—more insinuates—but Sora scrunches up her face and points to her mouth, and her pout is just as fine an invitation for her lips as any.

"Again."

"Wherever you need," Riku says, passionately adhering to directions. She reaches out to stroke a thumb across her cheek. "Whenever you need. Any time you're ready." After all, it's not as if there's anything else in the universe that would be a more suitable use of her time. "Not like there's anywhere else I wanna be."

"Oh, sure." Sora blows a raspberry in disdain. "There was _always_ some other place you wanted to be."

Riku thinks she could very well spin a serviceable response. _I dread the thought of doing absolutely anything else except making feverish love to you until my heart gives out._ Though it is fair to say that she could always appreciate a change in scenery. For the begrudging chivalric romance of it all, though it doesn't even have to be a castle—they've covered that one a couple times over already. She will lie her down and ravish her in the moonlight, perhaps—in fact, in a grassy moonlit copse, where there'll be some music, like the place of their literal dreams. Or anywhere among the stars and the lanes between them, the whole expanse of the universe at their feet. Next year and last century and right now, just in the next worldline over. Though even the dark realm will do. Because ultimately, it doesn't matter.

"I mean," Riku says, with a nonchalant nod upward. "Long as you were gonna be there."

"You stupid sap," Sora says. "Kiss me again."

Without another word Riku swoops in as requested, artfully dropping kisses everywhere she's allowed: again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> [título](https://youtu.be/m-M1AtrxztU) ~~yeah i've been meaning to use this track forever whataboutit it's one of my all-time favorite songs okay~~
> 
> if you made it this far i'm sorry


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